Flash Point
by Prosperina
Summary: It takes him a while to realize it, but Mamoru isn't where he's supposed to be.


_**Disclaimer:** Flash Point is copyrighted by Prosperina. Intellectual property may not be duplicated or redistributed in any way or form without the permission of author. Characters depicted in said story are completely fictional, and, unless noted otherwise, property of Naoko Takeuchi. No copyright infringement intended. _

  
  
**F L A S H P O I N T**  
by Prosperina 

  
  
**Prologue**

The sun was shining in his eyes when he awoke, a brilliant globe of light that chased away the darkness. It blinded him, but already numb he continued to stare. 

A strangeness filled him; it'd been a long time since he'd faced daylight with a naked eye. The golden tendrils of yellow beckoned at him, and he reached for something that was no longer there. The sun reached for him, but it was too far away. And yet he reached, like two lovers destined never to touch. 

The sun was the second thing he noticed. 

Long before its light seeped into his irises, Mamoru was already aware that he was not where he was meant to be. Grass was prickling at his neck, the faint aroma of roses in the air. Somehow, after the usual three drinks at the bar last night, he must've walked around until he fell asleep in the small park two blocks away from his apartment. 

Mamoru silently berated himself; it would be a hard feat to explain the third late arrival this week to his boss. He couldn't afford to lose another job in this city, the employment rate of Japan was steadily decreasing, and his luck would soon run out. 

The third thing he noticed was that he was not two blocks away from his apartment, and the uncomfortable realization that the skies he lay beneath were all too familiar. 

In the distance he could see the remains of the starlight tower, still struggling on its own two feet before builders and councils decide to take pity on it. Beneath that he knew was a row of shops and cafés, a popular place for all teenagers after school. Not far from there was Juuban Junior High School. 

Somehow, Mamoru was back in Tokyo. 

Somehow, Mamoru was back in Minato-ku. 

  
* * * 

  
It seemed like time froze for a moment, just long enough for him to regain his composure. Control and composure: his two virtues in life. 

Mamoru stood and started for the exit of the park, and it surprised him that it still felt so natural to be back to where he'd been running from the last three years. Even as he thought that, his mind rejected it; it wasn't the town he'd been running from. 

If only it'd been that easy. 

Pushing the intrusive thoughts to a far corner of his mind, Mamoru continued to walk to a building that was once his second home. Each time he passed a person he used to know he would tense; what would they say? But none recognized him, and Kotono, the only one who did, simply said "hello" without stopping for a reply. 

Bemused, he then found himself standing in front of the large sign "Crown Arcade." A quick glance inside the windows confirmed what he already suspected; nobody he knew was inside. Motoki had left around the same time that he did, and he doubted… he doubted that others had stayed behind. One thing he'd learned while he was away was that memories were a powerful thing, and it was a thing to be feared. 

Mamoru began to turn away, there was nothing left there for him now. Perhaps this was that moment for him; the one where he realized all was lost. But given the choice, he wasn't sure how he would do it again. Would he have chosen that same path, or was it only the action of a fool? If a golden platter were to present him the chance to be that other man, would he be strong/stupid enough to take that risk? Did it matter if in the end he was a self-sacrificing hero, the coward, or the fool? In a world turned mute, how much did it matter if you spoke? 

He didn't know the answer, but was afraid that he would need to soon. 

It wasn't ten feet from the entrance of the Arcade that he stopped. 

And there she was, an illuminated and visionary deity that made him feel like he was moving when he was only standing still. 

"Usagi," he whispered. The name fell bitterly from his lips. 

"Usako," and it rolled like honey off his tongue. 

How was it that three years had passed and she still looked exactly the same? 

Why did she gaze at him from under her lashes, as if unsure whether or not to approach him? 

Why was she looking at him as if he were her someone else, she was his someone else, and like she still loved him? 

  
  
FINIS.   
Flash Point [Prologue] 

  
  
**Author's Notes:**

**flash point** _n._   
1. the point at which eruption into significant action, creation, or violence occurs   
2. the lowest temperature at which the vapor of a combustible liquid can be made to ignite momentarily in air 


End file.
